


losing my religion

by dollylux



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: 90s, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe, Brainwashing, Cults, Drug-Induced Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, First Time, M/M, Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Murder, Pedophilia, Pining, Polyamory, Rough Sex, Sexual Coercion, Threesome - M/M/M, Underage Sex, Unsafe Sex, runaways - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8787172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollylux/pseuds/dollylux
Summary: Jared Padalecki meets a boy, falls in love with a boy, and joins a cult because of a boy.(Set in 1995; Jared is fifteen and Jensen is seventeen.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Based on the novel "The Girls" by Emma Cline.
> 
>  
> 
> [Playlist for this story on 8tracks.](http://8tracks.com/dollylux/losing-my-religion)

“Take a deep breath.”

Jared always closes his eyes. Doesn’t even mean to do it. His lips fold in to cover his teeth and he tenses against the pressure of the big hand on the back of his head, not letting him move away, not letting him move at all.

He can feel Jensen’s eyes on him from the corner of the room, and he would give years from his life to know what he’s thinking.

It always feels huge when it slides over his tongue, and he still hasn’t learned how to hide his grimace, to hide the lurch of his body as he gags when it hits the back of his throat.

Jeff hisses, quiet and pleased, and Jared can’t help the warmth that floods his cheeks at the accidental praise.

“That’s it,” Jeff coaxes, fingers curling into his thick waves, tightening as his hips lift. He lets Jared start to work him in and out, bobbing up and down like he’d shown him, like he’s learned to do in the two months he’s been more or less living on the farm.

“Good boy.”

It’s humiliating, having to do this in front of Jensen. Having to sit on Jeff’s bed, in his room that smells of mold and mothballs and stale cigarettes, and let himself be used like this. He’d told himself after the very first time, after he’d cried the tears he needed to get out, after he’d gone back home and looked at himself in the mirror, that it would never, ever happen again.

He’d stopped counting after the twelfth time.

Jeff is gentle and slow in a group setting, lazy-eyed and all-seeing, the mystic that brings absolute strangers to their knees with a single look. Jeff with just the Family is relaxed, easy to laugh and smile, to share cigarettes with and play a song on Adrianne’s old guitar. But Jeff in private, in this bed, is an animal.

Jared gags, chokes as Jeff grips his hair hard and starts to really pound his throat, and he doesn’t hold back the tears, the steady drip of foamy spit that leaks out of the corners of his mouth.

It’s what Jeff wants.

He feels himself float when Jeff starts to lose it, feels himself lift up out of his body and hover over it, over the bed, over the room. He used to think it was Jeff’s doing, his power, the culmination of the ritual, but he knows now, after spending a rainy Saturday at the library last week pouring over psychology books, that it’s called disassociating. 

Spunk spills thick and bitter over his tongue, and he has no choice but to swallow it down. He wishes Jensen wasn’t in here, that he didn’t have to see how ugly Jared could be, how unpracticed and graceless he is in these moments, how broken down he looks before he can collect himself. Jared lifts his head when Jeff finally sighs and relaxes his grip, and he doesn’t even have a chance to wipe his face clean before Jeff hauls him in for a deep, licking kiss.

Jared almost gags again at the thought of Jeff tasting all the spit and snot and jizz coating his mouth but Jeff seems to relish it, to chase after it with greedy laves of his tongue. He finally lets him go and Jared stumbles to his feet immediately, reaching down for the flannel shirt he’d brought with him and clutching it against his chest.

“Gettin’ better,” Jeff sighs, relaxing back against the bed and fumbling for the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. “You’re getting there, Jared. How do you feel?”

Jared shrugs as he yanks the borrowed flannel over his lanky body, wanting to wipe his face clean but not wanting to dirty up Jensen’s shirt, to soil it with this. 

“Okay, I guess,” he mumbles.

“C’mere,” Jeff says, low in that way that doesn’t leave room for argument, for hesitation.

Jared crouches down beside the bed, his bony knees poking through the rips in his jeans and digging into the dirty wood floor. He lifts his head and blinks up at Jeff, sleepy and pretty, just the way he likes. 

Jensen shifts in the chair, and it makes Jared’s stomach clench up.

“Special boy,” Jeff whispers, bringing a big paw up to cup his cheek, spanning it with embarrassing ease. His thumb slides over the apple of it and down to the corner of Jared’s used mouth. “There’s magic in you, boy. A powerful energy. Can you feel it?”

Jared nods without thinking too much about it, ensnared in Jeff’s bloodshot, dark eyes, lost in them without even trying.

“Yessir,” he whispers.

“Good boy,” Jeff murmurs, the pad of his thumb sliding over his swollen bottom lip before he leans in and kisses him, chaste, almost sweet. “Okay, go on now. Leave us.”

Jared gets back to his feet, keeping his head down as he turns and pushes his hair behind his ear in a nervous tuck. He lifts his eyes and catches Jensen looking at him, watching him with an expression that Jared can’t even begin to unpack. It lasts for only a few seconds, just a pause where blinks should be, and then Jared’s gone, ducking back out into the dark house to fumble his way through to the front door, outside where everyone else is, where the fire is blazing and the girls are dancing and there’s laughter and singing and a whole other kind of religion waiting for him.

And what Jensen and Jeff do in that candlelit room is a secret unto themselves.

 

\--

 

The world is soggy and grey, the road slick under the tires of Jared’s bicycle as he makes his way back to the farm.

His backpack is stuffed with food and drinks as well as a fat envelope of twenties and fifties stolen from his mom’s stash of mad money that she never checks, never has to. One of the benefits of being the only child of a dead Nashville starlet.

Blacktop gives way to muddy gravel as “Mayonaise” by the Pumpkins plays from the Discman on his hip, loaded up with fresh batteries and providing a perfect soundtrack to the drear of the day. He dodges the potholes and washed-out gravel on instinct now, his heart swollen with the anticipatory joy of _providing_ , of giving to his newfound family, of playing his part in it.

He can’t help but grin as he hunkers down and pedals faster the last half mile up the drive, uncaring of the drizzle of rain that starts up again, frizzing out his hair and soaking into his worn hoodie. His bike skids as he comes to a stop beside the fence he’d fixed yesterday with Jensen and some of the older girls, and he hops off so fast one of the pedals spins in his wake.

It’s dark in the kitchen and crowded with girls, the smell of their unwashed skin filling the stuffy room with pungent musk over top the stale spices pinched from expired containers. 

Genevieve has her dark hair braided long and thick down the center of her back, and she’s sweating as she cuts into rotten tomatoes, carefully dissecting squishy, dark parts from the ones that are still edible. Adrianne is washing dishes with one of the younger girls, her muscular arms shining and tensed with exertion as she scrubs at a scalded pot that had contained vegetable soup the night before. Danneel stirs the contents of the huge pot on the stove, her massive belly keeping her nearly a foot back from it. Jared can’t help but worry at how thin her arms look, how easily he can see her shoulderblades through the thin pink tanktop she’s wearing.

“Hey,” he says uneasily into the working quiet. He moves some of Jeff’s piled up books over from the table and sets his backpack down to unzip it and root around inside.

The six girls in the kitchen turn to look at him, anxious as hungry cats, all wild-eyed, haunted with starvation. He thinks of the two bologna sandwiches he’d scarfed before he left the house and keeps his guilty eyes down as he unloads the bag: a package of bacon, two pounds of ground beef, a red pepper, two onions, half a jar of pickles, a squashed bag of wavy chips, a bottle of Coke, and--

“Salt!” Danneel gasps, rushing over to him with a dripping wooden spoon in her hand. She takes the container of salt and kisses it like it’s precious before leaning down and planting a matching kiss to Jared’s cheek. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Jared grins bashfully, shrugging with one shoulder as he busies himself with organizing the new food, not looking up again until Adrianne approaches, smelling of Dawn dishwashing liquid and body odor.

“You did good,” she says quietly, examining each item like she has the luxury of rejecting any of it, and the smile she gives him is small, hard-earned. Of all of them, Adrianne has the most will, the most pride, and she’s also the one, along with Jensen, who rarely leaves Jeff’s side. “Did you get--?”

“Right here,” Jared replies, pulling out an envelope stuffed with bills, at least $700 worth. She looks over her shoulder and back at Jared, wild blonde hair shaking as she does.

“Get it to Jensen,” she whispers, folding a long hand over Jared’s to hide the money. “He’s outside, working on the truck.”

Jeff’s truck hasn’t run the entire time Jared’s been here, and he’s starting to suspect that it never will. It’s something Jensen spends time on when he wants to be alone, when the house starts to feel too crowded, and Jared hangs back a few feet when he nears Jensen leaned over the hood, not wanting to disrupt his quiet.

“You back?” Jensen says, his slim back stretched out long to reach something deep in the engine’s guts. Jared chews on the inside of his cheek, worrying over Jensen’s beautiful, delicate hands, over his dark mind that sent him out here by himself in the first place.

Worrying over Jensen is what he does.

“Yeah,” Jared replies, like an apology. He pulls the envelope out of his back pocket and walks up to him, his Vans sinking into the mud and making soft suck sounds before he comes to a stop. He hands the money to Jensen who already has his hand out for it, who looks down at the thick stack of bills and sucks in a quick little breath at the sight, his already huge eyes widening before they return to normal.

“Good,” is all he says, giving Jared the briefest glimpse of green under long lashes and a half smile before he hops off the cement block down to the ground. His hair is too short to pull back and so it hangs in his eyes and brushes his cheeks, a sweet summer gold on the wet April afternoon. It’s just the two of them right now, just them in the quiet near the workshed, and Jared has never been more aware of his heart, of every movement from another person, of every color and shape and texture that makes up another body.

He would rob his dead grandmother’s grave for Jensen. He’d steal every piece of gaudy heirloom jewelry, call his mother every name in the book to make sure she hated him and would never come looking for him. He’d take the butterfly knife clipped to his waist to the gut of anyone Jensen told him to, trusting that they deserved it, for whatever reason Jensen gave.

All the guilt at stealing money from his family dissipates when Jensen reaches out and squeezes his arm, fast and grateful.

“I’m gonna take it to Jeff. Good job.”

He closes his eyes the same time Jensen leans in and kisses him, fumbled and wet on the cheek. Jared’s left stunned in his wake, reaching for a second in his life that he’ll never get back.

 _Anything_ , his heart whispers to him fiercely, a reminder. A promise. _Anything for him._

 

Dinner is chaotic, quiet and tense with real need. Starved girls tuck into corners and hunker down over their bowls, eating as quickly as the hot soup will let them, their eyes darting around the crowded room, distrustful and defensive. Jared forgoes food and focuses instead on making sure everyone gets enough, that Danneel gets a whole piece of bread instead of a torn off corner, that the youngest girls get a glass of spring water from the jug instead of the dirty stuff from the bottles they bring up from the creek.

He finds Jensen in the kitchen, tossing handfuls of vegetable guts into an empty grocery bag and wiping off the counter with his hand. He drags a dirty hand across his filthy white shirt as he turns and sees Jared hesitating in the doorway, the noises from the other side of the house receding as they smile at each other, pleased with the work they did today.

“Did you eat?” Jensen asks, tying up the sagging grocery bag and dropping it into the trashcan. He looks even more pale than usual tonight, his cheekbones pronounced as a runway model, the circles under his eyes deeply shadowed, a delicate purple. Jared showers with Jensen, changes in the same small room he does, sleeps with his arms hooked around Jensen’s lean body every night, so he knows: he’s starving, emaciated. Dangerously so.

“Yeah,” Jared lies, stepping into the kitchen and taking the soggy rag from Jensen’s hand. “Did you?”

Jensen looks down at his empty hands before wiping them absently on the seat of his jeans. He lowers his eyes in that way he does when he’s lying about himself, his hair falling down to shield half of his face.

“It’s okay,” he says, sidestepping instead of outright lying. “I want to make sure the girls get enough to eat.”

“Jensen,” Jared says, tossing the rag onto the counter and reaching for Jensen’s bony wrist. He tugs him toward the table, to the one spot cleared off in the corner where Jeff normally eats. “C’mon. Sit down.”

Jensen settles into the chair with a reluctant sigh, reaching up to push his hair back from his face in a way that makes Jared feel warm all over. He hurries to fill up an oversized bowl with the last of the lumpy potato soup, his nose flaring at the smell of the slightly sour milk they’d used to make it. He grabs the last hunk of crusty, stale bread and drops it on top, walking it over with the rest of a jug of water and setting it down in front of Jensen.

“Eat,” he tells him, all the warmth in his body flooding out of him in that single word.

Jensen smiles at the feast, looking shy and younger than his seventeen years as he fidgets in the seat and tries to wrap his mouth around the words ‘thank you’. 

“Only if you share with me,” he finally says, scooting over in the chair so Jared can sit in it with him. They gulp down scoops of potato soup and soggy bread with a shared spoon, their thin bodies pressed together from shoulder to foot, their smiles carefully held, secret from each other. 

 

The air changes when Jeff comes in that evening and hands the keys to the station wagon over to Adrianne, telling her quietly to take a couple of the younger girls out to bring in the groceries. 

Jared shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other, his arms submerged in soapy, cooling water, bits of potato clinging to his elbows as he scrubs at a handful of spoons. Jensen is at his side, drying bowl after bowl with a damp towel and stacking them in sets of four on the counter. The girls fall quiet in a way that reminds Jared of church but also reminds him of the fear that used to come over him when his dad would come home with the smell of beer on his breath.

“Jared,” Jeff says, large and warm, a smile in the word. Jared dares a glance at Jensen before he cranes to turn and meet Jeff’s eyes, finding real happiness there, a glow that makes every hair on Jared’s body stand on end. He hands Jensen the clean spoons and wipes his hands on his jeans, giving Jeff his full attention as he walks into the crowded kitchen, smelling of liquor and steak sauce from his dinner with Mark.

His cheeks are held in both of Jeff’s hands, and a couple of the girls draw in sharp, envious breaths when Jeff leans in and presses his full mouth to the center of Jared’s forehead.

Jared sags against him, one hand fumbling behind him to grab onto the counter as the room spins, a deep, pure joy like he’s never known lighting him up from within. It’s the power of Jeff, of his love, and Jared feels it more in this moment than he ever has before.

“I’m so proud of you,” Jeff murmurs against his skin, whiskers tickling Jared’s forehead. “Well done.”

He wants to say that stealing money is nothing, that he didn’t earn it or anything, but he accepts it all without speaking, with just a tremble of a smile in reply. He opens his eyes when Jeff lets him go, finding every eye in the room on him, all the attention on him alone. He glows under it, and the smile on his face is drugged and dreamy when Jeff leaves the kitchen and heads for the stairs, leaving him to turn back to the dishes while soft girl voices pop up around the room.

Jensen’s elbow finds his own, just a gentle press, but it’s enough to make Jared grin, dimples peeking out as he dips his hands back into the water to find the knives waiting there.

 

\---

 

Mark Pellegrino has a top 40 hit right now, in April of 1995.

It’s not really the kind of stuff Jared listens to, but he knows about him, knows his name, has seen his slow, brooding music videos. He’s a big deal, has a mansion out in Driftwood where he’s let the Family come and spend days at a time, swimming in his pool and eating all his food, his gold records gleaming and immaculate on the wall.

Everyone in the family talks about Mark like he’s one of them, like his presence in their lives is casual and not the crux upon which their livelihoods depend. Jeff had drawn Mark in like a fly to honey, had sold him on the importance and sanctity of their little group until Mark had invested hundreds of dollars in them at first, and then thousands.

“Mark’s gonna get Jeff a record deal,” Gen had told Jared matter-of-factly on that fateful day when they had spotted Jared on the side of the road with a broken bike chain and a tear-streaked face and taken him in. “Jeff’s crazy talented. He’s gonna be a superstar, I just know it.”

Jeff had used a passcode and a key to let them all into Mark’s house. Danneel had wanted to raid the fridge, to see if he had any of those homemade bread’n’butter pickles he’d had last time, but the look on Jeff’s face had quieted her down for awhile, made her settle on the floor in front of Adrianne and lean back to let her hair get played with while she rubbed her six-month big belly.

An hour and fifteen minutes go by, and Mark is still nowhere to be seen. 

Jensen is across the room near the window, looking out on the clear blue day, at the greening trees and flowering gardens beyond and below, his eyes far away, young. Jared shifts where he’s perched on the loveseat he’s sharing with Gen, trying not to watch the way Jeff paces back and forth like a caged cat.

The silence deepens and spreads, and Jared can’t help but watch the way Jeff’s strong hands curl into fists at his sides, the way his neck reddens as each minute passes.

This was supposed to be an audition for some music execs that Mark knows. Jeff’s guitar is perched in the corner near the fireplace, waiting.

“I’m hungry,” Danneel whispers, her soft voice baby-like, petulant. Adrianne rubs her shoulders and tries to shush her without Jeff hearing. Jared shifts on the overstuffed cushion, not looking over at them, not wanting to draw attention, but his heart thumps louder in his ears.

“I bet we could order pizza,” she continues, turning to look up at Adri and then at Gen, her mini-family within the Family. “I bet he has an account with them. We could get three large peppero--”

The slap comes so sudden and so loud everyone in the room flinches. Jared looks up and catches the tail end of it: the back of Jeff’s wide hand just leaving Danneel’s round cheek as her head snaps to the side under the force, her face blooming a hot, angry red in its wake. 

She sobs, just once and stunned, and Jared can’t move, can’t breathe. He’d never seen Jeff like this, never seen him lose his temper, never seen him hit one of the girls. Jensen, Adrianne, and Gen all look away, staring back out the window or down at their hands, their faces carefully blank like they hadn’t seen it.

Jared stares in horror as Danneel curls in on herself, one arm around her pregnant stomach as she rocks back and forth like a little girl, hand hiding her red cheek. She cries almost silently, not looking up, not seeking out comfort from anyone.

When Jeff’s eyes find him, Jared looks away, gaze landing on Jensen out of pure habit. Jensen blinks, sleepy and serene as he watches the horizon, the warm afternoon sun making him almost glow. 

“Come on,” Jeff says finally, grabbing his guitar and the keys and stalking over to the door. “We’re leaving.”

Gen and Adrianne close in around Danneel, one of them helping her up while the other wraps an arm around her, none of them speaking as they make their way towards Jeff. Jared stands up and waits for Jensen, trying and failing to catch his eyes when Jensen walks over.

“Feel my hand,” Jensen says, holding it out with spread fingers for Jared to touch. “It’s so warm.”

“Not you two,” Jeff says when Jared and Jensen near the door. Jensen looks up at him, clear-eyed and calm, an empty vessel waiting to be filled with whatever Jeff wants. Jared lets go of Jensen’s hand and shoves his own in his back pockets, not brave enough to look up at Jeff and so he just stares down at Jeff’s feet, at his worn black boots that Jensen polishes every single morning.

“You stay here,” he continues, his voice low so the girls won’t hear. “He’s more likely to listen to reason if it comes from two pretty boys like you. Do whatever it takes, Jen. Do you hear me? Anything. I need this. _We_ need this.”

“Anything,” Jensen echoes with a slow smile, like he’s dreaming, swimming through warm water. “Yessir.”

“That’s my boy,” Jeff says, cupping Jensen’s face and leaning down to kiss him thick and owning on the mouth. Jared closes his eyes and holds his breath, trying his hardest to just disappear. “I’m depending on you.”

“I won’t let you down, Jeff.” It sounds like a ring sliding onto a finger, and the vast possibility behind that promise makes Jared’s stomach clench up. The door closes and they’re all gone, leaving Jared standing beside Jensen in an empty house with not a single other soul present.

It’s all Jared has ever wanted.

“You hungry?” Jensen asks, still holding onto that eerie smile of his as he makes his way toward the kitchen, to the well-stocked fridge.

 

They gorge themselves on pizza bagels and curly fries and raw cookie dough, washing it all down with a bottle of Pepsi they pass back and forth between them while they spend the next four hours watching _Real World: San Francisco._ Jared’s almost forgotten where they are, almost feels like they’re at home, at his real home, and he’s got Jensen there with him, safe and away from Jeff and the Family. 

They’re sprawled out on the couch with a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos between them when the front door opens and Mark steps inside, hesitant and on guard immediately when he hears the TV.

“It’s just me,” Jensen says, licking his fingers quickly and jumping up off the couch. Jared scrambles to follow, wiping his hands off on his jeans and tucking the long falls of his hair back behind his ears.

Mark closes the door behind him and steps into the house, his bootfall heavy and echoing. He flips on the lamp next to the couch and it lights up the room, drawing Mark’s gaze first to Jensen’s face and then his own.

“What are you two doing here?” Mark asks, gaze settling on Jensen when he takes a step forward, a coy curve to his hips, to the way he walks.

“Jeff wanted us to come over and see how you were doing. He wanted to send one of the girls, but I begged him to let me come instead.” Jensen leans against the back of the couch, wearing Jared’s grey Mother Love Bone tee that rides up high on his waist, giving a flash of his belly button to Mark and Jared. They both watch helplessly, Jared with a low ache settling into his chest as realization kicks in.

“And why did you want to come over?” Mark asks, falling right into the trap, one of his million dollar hands coming up and snagging Jensen around his malnourished waist. Jared’s own hands, empty and broke, curl into useless fists at his sides.

“Because if you’re needin’ something, I know I’d be the one who knew how to give it to you.” Jensen’s so pretty washed in the gold from the lamp, in the shadows of the early evening, his hair glinting where it lays long against his cheek, his eyes clear as sea glass and guileless as he stares unwaveringly up at Mark.

“Tell me again how old you are,” Mark says, fingers disappearing into all that hair of Jensen’s, gathering it up on one side and tucking it back behind his ear.

“Fourteen,” Jensen replies, whispered like a secret, but it’s a lie.

Jared knows he’s seventeen, just turned it last month. His heart thuds a warning in his ears.

Mark looks over at Jared, lit from below and looking exactly like things that hide in the shadows. Jared sees his secrets now.

“And you?” Mark asks.

“He’s thirteen,” Jensen says softly, stepping in close to Jared with his hips out, sexual in a way he has never, ever been before. Not ever. “Aren’t you, Jay?”

He finds himself nodding as he stares into Jensen’s eyes, just as ensnared as Mark had been, probably moreso.

He wants to ask why his real age of fifteen is too old tonight.

Mark settles onto the couch in a lazy spread, keeping his eyes on Jensen who has sauntered over to the stereo to dig through the piles of cassettes and CDs there. Jared lowers himself into the furthest corner of the couch from Mark and pulls his legs up beside him, his loose-socked feet tucking under the cushion. He watches Jensen without wanting to, without meaning to, worrying over the visible notches of his spine above the neckline of his borrowed shirt and over how careless he’s being with his body here tonight. 

Some old bluesy rock song starts up, one that Jensen’s hips catch the rhythm to immediately. He turns to face them on the couch, and his face is serene, lit from within, nipples hard in Jared’s shirt as he starts to dance, sultry and dreamy and for Mark.

“That’s right,” Mark whispers, sinking back deeper on the couch, his already beady eyes falling into pleased slits. “Pretty little boy.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a baggie, fishing around in it for the little bright green pills tucked into a corner of it. He drops two of the pills on his own tongue and swallows them dry, holding out one in each hand for Jared and Jensen like some visiting uncle with silver dollars.

Jensen takes his first, popping it into his pink mouth and washing it down with flat Pepsi like it’s no big deal, watching Jared with a secret smile the whole time, like they’re both in on something big. He takes the second pill from Mark and walks over to Jared with it, holding it out like the Body of Christ at communion.

“Open up,” he says.

The pill starts to dissolve on his tongue immediately, the soda doing nothing to wash the taste of it out of his mouth. He coughs after he swallows and it makes Jensen laugh, stepping back with a grin as he finishes off the 2-liter and drops it onto the floor, no one except Jared caring that a splash of it spills out onto the immaculate cream carpet.

There’s a few blurred, anxious minutes before the pill kicks in where Jared worries over what he just took, what it’s going to do to him, what it’s going to do to Jensen. What will happen if they lose control and Mark takes advantage of it. He watches Jensen’s too-slow movements like the first few blissful minutes in a horror movie before everything goes wrong, before the monster comes out, and it’s only when he starts to see the blur of colors Jensen leaves in his wake that he realizes the pill has kicked in.

He laughs, bubbled up and helpless, and he only laughs harder when he hears the same sound come out of Mark and Jensen. 

Jensen’s standing over him again, his hands out this time, and Jared can’t help but grin at him, a flood of emotion washing over him so intensely that tears blur his vision.

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells Jensen, the most honest thing he’s ever said in his life, and a grin stretches over Jensen’s mouth like a winning lottery number, like his favorite song just came on.

“C’mon, silly,” Jensen replies, grabbing Jared’s hands and leaning back to haul him up from the couch.

They don’t dance together, not at first, and Jared can’t even hear the music over the sounds of his own heart, over the distinct rhythm of the blood rushing through his veins. He lifts his arms over his head, closes his eyes, and dances like he’s never had the guts to do before, not even alone in his bedroom with no one else looking. He dances like he’s beautiful, too, like everyone else thinks so, like his body was made for just this.

Jensen steps in against him, so warm it’s shocking, so alive and real and thriving in his arms that Jared opens his eyes and stares at him, realizing only then that they’re the exact same height. 

He wraps his arms around Jensen’s waist while Jensen’s settle on his shoulders, their bony chests pressed together with no thought for space, no hesitation. Jensen’s body is so loose against his own, silk just barely containing the warmest liquid, and Jared can’t make his hands wide enough, can’t hold him close enough, keep him right here, just… _keep him_.

It takes him too long to realize that Mark’s joined them, that Mark is pressed tall and broad against Jensen’s back, that he’s just as fucked up as they are as he mouths at the long line of Jensen’s neck, pushing the collar of his shirt away to get at his jutting clavicle.

Jensen moans, lifting his eyes away from Jared’s for the first time to let his head tip back, lashes falling down against his cheeks while Mark feasts on his neck, his big hands forcing their way between Jared and Jensen’s bodies, gripping Jensen’s like he owns it.

“I need to pee,” Jared mumbles, face flushed hot with embarrassment. He extracts himself from Jensen’s grip and hurries away before he can see Jensen turning to face Mark, mouth so soft and ready to be kissed.

The bathroom is sterile and white, the lights too bright when Jared pushes the door closed and the lid of the toilet up to piss, unloading a liter of soda from his bladder.

He can still feel the ghost of Jensen’s warmth all along his chest, can still feel his graceful hands tucked up under the long fall of Jared’s messy hair, and he wonders wildly and suddenly how he got _here_ , how he came to be _right here_.

He had courted Jensen, there’s no doubt about that. Had fallen for him immediately when he’d seen him in the park with the girls last summer, all wearing cut-off shorts and midriff-baring tops, sauntering through the grass among families and couples like they owned the entire world.

They’d been rooting around in the trash, digging for food left from grilling out and from greedy people who threw away things that were perfectly edible. Jensen had been thin even then, his thighs not touching in his scandalous shorts, his hipbones runway-ready where he’d folded the too-big waist of them down. 

Half a dozen people watched them dig through McDonald’s bags, coming up with a half-eaten Big Mac and some soggy fries marinating in pungent ketchup. They’d split the food between the four of them, wordless and without shame, ignorant to the horror of everyone around them.

Everyone except Jared.

Jensen hadn’t seen him that day, hadn’t caught Jared’s eyes on him, falling in love.

It would take a couple of months before they’d meet properly, and even longer for Jensen to allow Jared into his inner circle.

Jared had earned it, earned his place beside him. Earned his place right here in this house, with Jensen.

He comes back into himself, staring at his own wild eyes in the spotless mirror. He doesn’t think he looks thirteen at all, doesn’t know how anybody would think so. He flips off the light and wanders back out into the sprawling house, coming to a stop in the livingroom and realizing with a start that he’s alone in it now.

He hears them then, outside and beyond the balcony in the kitchen. He steps up to the French doors but doesn’t open them, just squints so he can see Mark and Jensen down in the massive pool in the backyard, the glowing, aqua rectangle nestled in the manicured garden.

Jensen looks naked in the water and so small where he’s plastered up against Mark’s hairy chest with Mark’s hands down on Jensen’s ass, gripping and moving fast and frantic.

Jared wonders if he’s touching Jensen inside, wonders what his fingers would smell like. Wonders if they miss him at all.

If Jensen even notices he’s not there.

He feels the pull the join them, still feels high enough to be brave, to go down there and take off all his clothes and try to get Jensen’s eyes on him again, but the quiet boy in him wins out, the one who hovered on the edge of dances and has never known how to be anything but silent or mortifyingly genuine. He knows no in between.

He washes the few dishes he and Jensen had used, leaving them to dry on the rack. He turns off the music and picks up the discarded bottle of Pepsi, scrubbing the stain in the carpet with a soapy sponge.

He’ll always be like this, he realizes. Always be the one who cleans up after, the one left behind.

It hits him then that he doesn’t want to hear it when they start to have sex, that he doesn’t want to be here and listen to it. He drifts through the house, entranced by the drug-induced colors in the dark, and finds a guest bedroom with a full-sized bed and a window facing the opposite side of the house from the pool.

He crawls under the covers and feels the world swaying around him, feels the endless spin of it, feels the waves of the pool that are lapping at Jensen’s skin outside, caressing him in places that Jared will never touch.

 

“Wake up,” Jensen whispers.

Jared thinks at first that they’re home, back on the farm, that Jensen is getting him up for breakfast duty. He groans and tucks in on himself, wondering in the back of his still drugged, sleepy brain why Jensen isn’t curled up in his arms, trying to stay warm in the freezing morning.

But it’s warm in this room and the blankets are soft, and Jensen smells like chlorine and spunk where he’s perched on the bed beside Jared, pulling at the covers he’s got tucked around him.

He opens his eyes into the dark room, reaching out blindly and finding Jensen’s naked thigh, gasping for the shock of bare skin.

“C’mon,” Jensen coaxes, reaching down for Jared’s hand and pulling on it as he stands up. “He’s gentle, I promise.”

He follows him because it’s what he does, but he hesitates in the doorway, finally seeing a hint of Jensen in the light coming from far down the hall, from Mark’s room.

“He’s… he’s a creep, Jen,” he manages to say, giving Jensen’s hand a squeeze in a half-hearted appeal. He likes to think he doesn’t know what’s about to happen, but he’s lost a lot of his naivete since moving onto the farm.

He knows.

“Don’t be like this, Jay,” Jensen whispers, tucking in close to him like they had been earlier while they were dancing, but this time no one else is around to see. Jared’s eyes slip closed when he feels Jensen’s nose drag along his cheek, when he feels the warm puff from his soft mouth right against his own lips. They don’t kiss, but a beat passes that’s as sacred as one. Jensen smiles, a movement Jared can feel against his face. “Come with me.”

Mark is naked and smiling from his lordly sprawl against the headboard, his cock thick and purple-tipped and waiting against his hairy belly. He grins outright when he sees Jared appear behind Jensen in the doorway, and he lifts an arm to beckon them in.

“C’mere, c’mere,” he says, patting the bed beside him, his eyes on Jared. Jared wipes the sleep from his eyes and glances at the clock next to Mark’s bed: 3:18am. He walks uncertainly across the room and climbs up onto the bed which he only realizes now is a waterbed that rocks and churns lethargically under his slight weight.

Mark snags him around the waist and pulls him in closer, right up against his side. Jensen appears like magic on the other side of him, sidling up to Mark like an eager puppy, smiling like he’s going to get rewarded for being good.

“I don’t want you yet,” Mark says to Jensen, turning on the bed so that he’s facing Jared completely, Jensen left behind and hurt in a way that makes Jared’s entire body tense with love, with an ache.

His eyes are forced onto Mark when he’s lowered onto the bed with Mark hovering over him, pushing Jared’s shirt up impatiently.

“Get these off,” Mark tells him, pulling at the button on Jared’s jeans, on his zipper. Together, they work him out of his clothes until he’s left in his underwear, a little boy’s white briefs that are so unsexy, so embarrassing that Jared closes his eyes, his cheeks stained hot pink.

“Oh,” Mark says in a heavy exhale, his hands pushing impatiently at Jared’s thighs. “Oh, look at you.”

Jared’s eyes seek out Jensen as Mark moves lower down his body, and he finds him there in a forgotten curl near the pillows, hair in his eyes, still damp from the pool, damp with sweat. 

He lifts his hips when Mark pulls his underwear off, and his attention is dragged back down to Mark when he lowers his face between Jared’s legs and breathes him in, his nose so close to Jared’s ass that Jared’s eyes snap shut, hands up to cover his embarrassed face.

“I won’t touch, I promise,” Mark whispers as he shoves Jared’s legs back, knees knocking against his chest. “Jesus Christ.”

Jared knows he’s lying.

The first swipe of his tongue comes as a total shock, and he gasps, his asshole flinching under the drag, his whole body shifting to get away from it.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you? Goddamn,” Mark growls, hands gripping hard enough to bruise around Jared’s thighs as he noses around his ass some more, digging out kisses over his taint, his cheeks. Jared nods because he is, because he can’t help but want to please him, not if this is what Jensen wants him to do.

“Little virgin asshole. Sweet little boy.” It’s a sigh that sounds like a punch, and Mark dives back in without warning, licking and sucking at his hole like he’s not disgusted by it, like Jared keeps something delicious inside of him that only grown men can taste.

“Hey,” comes a soft voice as a hand closes around his wrist. Jensen’s voice, Jensen’s hand.

Jensen pries the hand covering his eyes away and smiles down at him, sweet like this is something romantic, like they’re in a music video or something. Jared relaxes a little when Jensen’s hand finds his hair, stroking it back away from his face as Mark’s tongue pries him open finally, slipping inside and forcing its way deeper.

Jensen’s smile doesn’t leave, even as he lowers his head to press a kiss to Jared’s cheek, to his jaw, to his sweaty neck and down, down, down. Jared’s eyes fall closed again as goosebumps fly over his entire body, the drugs still coursing through his system making him feel every bit of Jensen’s mouth, making each place Jensen touches light up with some inner heat.

He groans when Jensen kisses one of his nipples, shy at first and then hungry, wrapping around it and sucking just like Mark is doing to his asshole. Jared rests a gentle hand on top of Jensen’s head, petting him with a trembling reverence that has him on the verge of tears, that makes him want to beg for more and to hide from this, all at once. 

Jensen moves up to lick out Jared’s armpit, his delicate, knowing hand wrapping around Jared’s cock just as two slippery, thick fingers find their way inside of Jared’s ass, pumping and spreading apart in a place Jared has never, ever been touched.

He whines, hurt and unsure, tensing up inside and trying to get away from the ache Mark is inflicting on him even as he stretches out, elongating himself under Jensen’s beautiful, licking mouth, under the sure hand gripped up tight around the base of his cock.

“No,” he manages, blurting out slick onto his jumpy belly as Mark pushes the head of his dick up against Jared’s spit-licked asshole, smearing lube around on it before he digs his hips forward and forces his way inside, breaking through the invisible line of Jared’s virginity.

“It’s okay,” Jensen soothes, kissing frantically over Jared’s trembling chest and down, the unbearable heat of his mouth closing around Jared’s dick, swallowing him down with shocking ease. 

Jared shakes his head, so tense that he’s shaking with it, his guts so tight that he forces Mark out, his hips lifting to try and get away from his iron grip.

He cries out when Mark pushes back in, getting all the way inside this time, not stopping until the rough scratch of his pubes is nestled against Jared’s bulging taint. The head of his dick is bumping at the roof of Jensen’s soft mouth, cradled and warm against his velvet tongue.

 _Don’t fight it,_ he tells himself, sighing as he lets his whole body give in, letting this happen instead of resisting because it’s going to happen whether he wants it to or not.

Jensen’s hand finds his own, their fingers tangling together tightly as Jensen bobs on his dick, working him so well that Jared can barely breathe, can’t focus on anything else, even the vicious, thick slam of Mark’s cock in his untouched insides, beating him open for the very first time.

He hadn’t even thought to tell him to put on a condom.

“Jensen,” he gasps, his hands scrambling in hair, on Mark’s sweaty skin, the word muffled as Mark kisses at his mouth, sucks Jared’s tongue into his own as his thrusts deepen, the waterbed sloshing beneath them. 

A warmth starts to build low in his body, in some spot inside of him that Mark keeps hitting, and it blooms out of him in a wet pulse into Jensen’s beautiful mouth, and Jared thrashes underneath both of them, fucking down on Mark’s dick and up into Jensen’s tight throat as he comes harder than he ever, ever has before.

Mark pulls out of him with an impatient yank, still hard even as Jared convulses on the bed in residual shocks of his orgasm. He drags Jensen off of Jared’s dick by his hair and throws him down on the bed, tearing off Jensen’s underwear and shoving his pale thighs apart, the little golden hairs on them glinting in the low light.

He shoves into Jensen with no prep, no lube except what’s left on his dick, and Jensen screams, fighting back with nails and his knees digging into Mark’s ribs. There’s anger on Mark’s face, the flimsy mask of kindness slipping away to reveal a blank-faced predator, his massive, immovable body pinning Jensen’s small one to the bed and using it with brutal, stinging thrusts.

“You think some little boy can fuck you better than I can?” Mark whispers against Jensen’s mouth, digging out kisses that Jensen doesn’t return as Jensen pushes ineffectually at his chest. “Hmm? You think he can do you better than I can? A slut like you?”

Jensen doesn’t say anything back, doesn’t close his eyes, just keeps glaring up at Mark with his nails dug into Mark’s chest, breaking skin, but Mark doesn’t seem to notice.

Jared turns on the bed, drunk on coming, the world still blurred around the edges from the pill, and he wonders if this is part of the game, the way Mark likes it to be with Jensen: a fight, a futile resistance. He curls into Jensen’s side, the bed dipping down with their combined weight to tuck them in tight together as they’re jostled under Mark’s inelegant thrusts, one of Jensen’s legs lifted to rest against his chest, spreading him open so wide that Jared can almost see in the shadows between their bodies, almost see--

“What’re you lookin’ at, boy?” Mark asks, stilling his thrusts and turning his eyes on Jared. He’s got Jensen’s thin ankle in his grip, and the sneer on his face makes Jared’s stomach turn, makes him realize how much control he’d given up when he decided to stay here with Jensen instead of leaving with Jeff and the girls. 

“You wanna see? Wanna see what all the fuss is about?”

Mark pulls out of Jensen and shuffles back, grabbing up his other leg and shoving until Jensen is spread as wide as girls in pornos, his legs pushed back like Jared’s had been earlier. Jared forces himself to sit up even though it hurts to move, his lower body stinging in a way it never has before. 

Mark grabs Jared’s arm and pushes him between Jensen’s legs, shoving him until Jared is low enough to see between them, beneath the tight bulge of Jensen’s balls, his soft, pink cock. 

It’s puff-rimmed and red, slick and used-looking and more beautiful than Jared had ever, ever let himself imagine. He huffs out the smallest sigh, one of his hands coming to rest on the inside of Jensen’s thigh, thumb rubbing in an adoring circle as he memorizes him, his textures, his smells, all the places on him Jared has never seen before.

“Get the fuck down there,” Mark orders, grabbing a handful of Jared’s hair and shoving him down between Jensen’s legs. “Kiss it.”

The smell of Jensen’s ass is dark, warm, a secret scent that makes Jared’s cock stir against the rumpled sheets. He wants to stay right here, to push his nose in against it and breathe him in for the rest of the night, to spend hours on this one sensory overload before moving onto another one tomorrow night, and another the next night, and on and on until he has him memorized with his entire body, in every possible way, until every single thing about Jensen is something he’s absorbed into himself, immortalized, made into a sacred thing.

Jensen makes a sound, soft and pleading, his trembling fingers finding the top of Jared’s head.

Jared closes his eyes, drawing in one last, savoring breath before he nestles in and gets his mouth real close, pressing the first timid kiss to Jensen’s swollen asshole. It flexes under his lips, blooming like a miracle, like a returned kiss, and Jared lets instinct take over then, both his hands low on Jensen’s spread thighs as he french-kisses his hole, licking and licking until his jaw hurts and his tongue and lips are numb, until Jensen is writhing above him and making the most beautiful, hurt noises and opening up so deliciously around Jared’s restless tongue.

“Suck on it,” Mark says suddenly, from above the fog, drawing Jared’s face away from Jensen’s ass and shoving his cock into his mouth, right across his tongue, making him gag immediately. It tastes like Jensen’s ass, like the artificial flavor of lube, and something bitter, probably Mark’s precome. 

He pulls out and feeds his cock into Jensen’s ass then, groaning long and low as he bottoms out in him. Jared stays where he is, Mark’s thigh bumping into his cheek with each thrust, and watches the way Jensen’s rim stretches thin around Mark’s thick cock, listens to the wet, quiet noises of Jensen’s insides as it takes it and takes it, as it gets used by this man who doesn’t appreciate what he’s getting to do, getting to have. 

Jensen is pliant now, a boneless doll on the bed, his sweet dick mostly hard and bouncing against his belly as he’s fucked. Jared gets lost in him, in the textures of his skin, in the varying degrees of heat in his body under Jared’s stroking, worshipping hands, touching him in ways he’s only dreamed about for months and months, in places he never even knew existed, not for him.

“Go on,” Mark is saying, drawing Jared’s attention away from Jensen’s gorgeous, flushed face and back down to where Jensen is empty again, hole gaped out and mouthing at nothing. Jared meets Mark’s eyes, stupid and unable to fathom what Mark wants him to do. “Get your dick in there. Fuck him.”

Jared looks up at Jensen’s face but can’t catch his eyes, can’t get him to lift those long lashes and see him. He glances back down at the splay of Jensen’s legs, breathing hard and frantic, his eager young dick already hard again and so, so ready for what Mark’s telling him to do. It would be so easy. Jensen’s so open, so loose inside. He’s so drugged anyway, he might not even remember this, might not remember that he let Jared do it, that Jared thought it was okay. 

He takes his dick in his hand, gripped up tight around the throbbing red head of it, and he finds himself shaking his head, swallowing hard as he does, his throat dry, eyes burning hot.

“N-No,” he says, shuffling back until he’s beside Jensen and not between those tempting thighs, feeling Jensen’s eyes on him now, feeling the hurt emanating from him. “I… I can’t.”

He looks down at Jensen, meeting his eyes finally, hating the rejected, embarrassed look on Jensen’s face. “I’m sorry. I just… I can’t. N-Not like this. I just--”

“Well, I can,” Mark interrupts with a laugh, shoving back in with no hands, digging in so deep that Jensen whimpers, tries to close his thighs. Jared stretches out along Jensen’s side again, their bodies sticking together with sweat and rocking in tandem on the watery mattress, and Jared doesn’t hesitate to reach over and touch Jensen’s cheek, pulling him until Jensen’s face is turned toward his own, their mouths touching again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, petting Jensen’s cheek, his hand shaking hard as tears blur his vision. “Jen, I--”

“Shh,” Jensen says, breathless and pained as he’s fucked, his forehead burning against Jared’s as he reaches for Jared’s hand on his face and drags it low on his body, not stopping until it’s between his spread legs, bumping Jared’s long fingers right where he’s stretched out painfully tight around Mark’s dick. “Put ‘em in. Just… touch me.”

Jared’s fingers spread hesitantly over Jensen’s puffy rim, rubbing in some of the stray slick there and gathering it up before he breaches him, two fingertips nudging in right beside Mark’s cock and sinking into Jensen’s soft, burning hot insides.

Jensen hisses quietly against Jared’s mouth, his tummy sinking in under Jared’s arm as Jared pushes in all the way, knuckles pressed tight against Mark’s cock.

“Fuck yeah,” Mark groans, slamming in even harder, jarring them all up closer to the headboard with his thrusts. “Make it fuckin’ tighter, boy. _Shit_ , yeah.”

“Curl ‘em up,” Jensen whispers against his lips, trembling fingers petting at Jared’s wrist, at the hard knob of his wristbone. 

They’re so, so close to kissing. 

Jared obeys, turning his hand until his fingers are curled up toward Jensen’s belly button, tucking in until the texture changes, until he feels a swollen little lump against his fingertips. Jensen gasps then, his whole body lifting up, arching under the movement.

“Right there,” he sighs, hand running up Jared’s arm and cupping his cheek, keeping their faces together. “Fuck me right there.”

Jared puts all his energy into it, his lashes fluttering as he pets gently at Jensen’s insides, rubbing right over that spot and massaging at it while Jensen gets more and more vocal, spilling out choked little sobs and pleads against his lips, their mouths rubbing together, wet and slick and damp.

Jensen comes with his entire being, the start of it just a quake that builds up and up until he’s crying out against Jared’s lips, broken and high-pitched and echoing around the room. Mark leans down over them both, trapping Jared’s arm between their bodies, his face shoving between theirs to get at Jensen’s while he comes, the thick wash of it gushing out and soaking Jared’s fingers.

Mark drags Jared’s fingers out of Jensen and makes him push them against Jensen’s panting mouth, sliding them over his tongue.

“Suck on ‘em,” Mark orders Jensen as he kisses down his throat, biting at his neck, his dick buried in deep, probably savoring the way Jensen convulses and throbs inside. Jensen obeys, such a good boy, closing his lips around Jared’s fingers and sucking on them with a soft sigh. He pets the flat soft of Jensen’s tongue, watching his face as Mark moves down his body and starts to lap at his used hole, drinking down his own come like he can’t get enough of the taste of it.

Jared pulls his fingers out and strokes Jensen’s face, leaving a trail of spit behind as he does. They’re staring right at each other, neither of them aware of Mark at all, not right now, not when there’s so much between them, so much being born here. 

His eyes stay open until the very last second, until his lips finally touch Jensen’s with a purpose, in their real, first kiss. Jensen sighs so sweet, like this is everything, exactly what he’d wanted all along, and the way he parts his mouth for Jared’s inexperienced, eager tongue is enough to make Jared’s chest tighten, his throat aching around words that he wants to say, wants to give him.

But he won’t, and he doesn’t. Not yet. Not here.

He falls asleep kissing Jensen, licking out his sighs, his tongue moving numb and in love inside of Jensen’s beautiful, lax mouth.

 

\---

 

“Mornin’,” Jensen says from his perch on the island in the kitchen, wearing just the flannel shirt Jared had peeled off last night and his grey underwear, looking like a one-night stand as he chews on a dry pancake and reads the comics in the Sunday paper.

Jared scrubs a hand over his face and shuffles into the kitchen, trying and failing to ignore the ache in his stomach, in his ass. Mark has his back to him at the stove where he’s making pancakes, adding to the stack already piled up on a plate beside him.

He comes to a stop in front of Jensen, wanting to test out their new intimacy, to see if he can get a good morning kiss, taste the sweetness of blueberry pancakes in Jensen’s sleep-sour mouth. He rests a hand on Jensen’s bare foot and smiles up at him, feeling awkward and over-dressed in their shared Mother Love Bone shirt and his ripped-up jeans.

Jensen blinks at him over the newspaper, his eyes guarded, almost glaring.

“Eat some pancakes. We’ve gotta get back,” he says, nodding back towards Mark, dismissing him with a wave of the paper. “Jeff’s waiting.”

Jared steps back, stung. His hand falls away from Jensen’s foot, and he feels anything but hungry now as his stomach turns, aching with rejection. Mark hands him a plate with two pancakes on it, gesturing over at the table with a half-smile.

“Butter and syrup’s over there. Juice in the fridge.”

He settles in at the table by himself, the brightness of the morning sun seeming like it’s taunting him as he cuts into his pancakes and tries to hastily hold his broken heart together before they have to head back out into the world, to Jeff.

 

Jensen rides in the front with Mark, the top down on his red Mustang convertible, freezing cold air whipping around them and making Jared shiver in the backseat. Jensen has a hand out the entire way home, fingers spread to let the early spring air fly through them, the tips of them turning a dangerous red as they start to numb in the cold. Jared watches his blissful face, his closed eyes in the sideview mirror, thinking over the night they’d just had and wondering what he’d done wrong.

 

Mark drops them off at the bottom of the driveway, and they’re quiet as they walk up to the house together, Jensen walking faster, always two steps ahead. He disappears into the house and up the stairs to Jeff’s room, not sparing Jared a second glance.

Jared stands alone in the strangely empty kitchen, listening for the sounds of the girls outside and beyond, for any hint of what he should be doing now.

The sudden, rising burst of Jeff’s voice from upstairs startles him, makes his head jerk to stare up at the ceiling while his heart starts to thump wildly in his chest. He strains to hear Jensen, to make out any words, but all he can hear is the soft muffle of his voice, and it sounds like pleading.

There’s a sound like a snap and then heavy footsteps, and then the unmistakable sound of Jensen crying out. Jeff’s bellows echo through the whole house, punctuated with what Jared now understands is the sound of Jeff’s hand hitting Jensen’s body, his beautiful, tired face.

“Hey,” comes a voice beside Jared just as a hand closes around his arm. He gasps, jumping at the sound and the touch, and it’s only then that he realizes he’s crying. He turns and looks up at Adrianne, at her green eyes bright with painful understanding, with tears of her own. “You shouldn’t be in here. C’mon.”

“But--” Jared protests, not letting her pull him toward the front door, his hand closing around the bannister of the staircase. “But Jensen--”

A door upstairs opens and Adrianne comes to life then, using her considerable strength to yank Jared away from the stairs and back through the kitchen, her mouth pressed right against his ear.

“Leave it,” she hisses, gripping his arm hard enough to bruise and walking him quickly out onto the porch and into the sparse gravel, toward the barn. She pulls the door closed behind them and it’s only then that she lets go of Jared, releasing him into the darkened room.

When his eyes finally adjust, he sees them all, all twelve of the girls still living here on the farm curled up together in the sweet-smelling hay, their eyes big and frightened as they take in the sight of Jared.

Adrianne goes to Danneel then, crouching down beside her and tugging up the old quilt Danneel’s curled up under, covering her bare arms and petting her hair. Jared knows without asking that all the girls spent the night out here, that they haven’t eaten in probably a whole day, that they’re waiting out Jeff’s wrath, waiting for Jensen to take the punishment for it so they can come out again.

Jared sits down on the stack of hay nearest the door and watches Jeff pace around near the fire pit between the cracks in the wood, the white plume of his exhaled cigarette smoke trailing him in the damp, early afternoon. He looks toward the house, dark and still, every single instinct in his body telling him to find a way to get inside, to get to Jensen.

“No,” Adrianne says from across the room, like she could hear his thoughts, like she saw the way his body tensed as he planned his escape. “He’ll be okay. This isn’t--”

Jared turns to her then, unable to hide his horror as his mind supplies the end of that sentence.

_This isn’t the first time this has happened._

“Gen! Adrianne!” Jeff shouts, making at least five of the girls gasp, their small bodies shifting in the hay as they tuck in closer together. Gen jumps up from her place at Danneel’s feet, and Adrianne joins her, standing nearly a foot taller than Gen and looking strong where Gen looks terrified.

“Just stay behind me,” Adrianne whispers to her, giving Gen what Jared can tell wants to be a brave smile, her long fingers tucking a dark lock of Gen’s hair behind her ear. “It’ll be okay.”

She stops near Jared, her voice dropping so that only he can hear it.

“Go keep an eye on Danni,” Adrianne says softly to him, searching his eyes in the shadowed corner. “She was bleeding last night, and she’s not feeling well.”

He glances over and finds Gen staring across the room at Danneel, tears burning in her dark eyes. He nods, standing up and making his way across the room while Adrianne and Gen open the door leading outside and disappear, leaving Jared more or less in charge.

“Hey,” he says to Danneel, giving her a wobbly smile as he crouches down and touches the back of his hand to her burning forehead, trying not to stare at the hand-shaped bruise on her cheek. “You cold?”

She nods, trying to smile even as tears slip quietly down her face. He’s never asked, but he knows almost for certain that Jeff is the father of this baby. Danneel isn’t more than sixteen herself and the youngest-acting of maybe all the girls here, even the little ones. Her penchant for pigtails and the stuffed bear she’s got cradled against her belly and her childish voice make her seem like a child, no older than grade school.

Jared wedges himself between Danneel’s back and the rough press of a haystack she’d been using as a pillow, letting her lean back against him as he hugs her as gently as he can, resting his chin on top of her head.

He feels Jensen’s absence like a death.

 

The door opens hours later, catching all of them dozing except a couple of the younger girls who’ve been singing since Adrianne and Gen left, soft and almost harmonizing, their sweet voices creating a haunting dissonance in the freezing, still air of the barn.

“Come on, girls,” Adrianne says in her normal tone, almost cheerful. “Grilled cheese and tomato soup inside. And we’ve got a fire going in the fireplace.”

Gen ducks into the barn and heads right for Jared and Danneel, her small but strong hands clasping Danneel’s pale ones and pulling her up from Jared’s chest. The intimacy between them, in the way Gen’s hands run over Danneel’s body, over her soft breasts and her bulging belly, make Jared ache and blush all at once.

“They’re lovers,” Jensen had told him once when he’d walked in on Gen with her hand under Danneel’s dress in the kitchen while Danneel washed dishes. “Gen followed Danneel here. Now, it’s Gen and Danni and Adri. They’re all just kind of… together.”

Jared follows the three of them back to the house, envious of the way they lean on each other, support each other, even as he’s grateful they have it at all. 

The inside of the house is warm and good-smelling, a domestic mix of burning wood, cooking tomatoes, and buttery bread. The girls are already settled around the amazingly clean table, their eyes big as moons as they stare at the full bowls of tomato soup in front of them. 

Jensen is at the stove, flipping another finished grilled cheese on top of the giant stack and wiping his hands off on his pants. He turns and brings the sandwiches over to the table, and the girls start grabbing hungrily at the warm food before he can even set the plate down.

He looks up and meet Jared’s eyes for the first time since this morning at Mark’s place, and Jared feels like he’s been ripped open when he sees that Jensen’s left eye is nearly swollen shut, that one side of his mouth is fat, distorted, still shining with blood that hasn’t dried yet.

“Sit down and eat, Jay,” Jensen tells him, nodding at the empty seat beside little Charlene. “It’s you and Johnnie on dishes duty tonight.”

Jared can’t seem to move, can’t sit down even after Jensen does, and suddenly he's the only person standing at a table full of happy chewing sounds, of the whispers of girls that have forgiven everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours because of a hot meal. 

He finds himself walking to the end of the table where Jensen is sitting, finds himself standing over him with tears in his eyes, with a trembling hand coming to rest on Jensen’s gaunt, pale cheek.

Jensen quakes under his touch, his spoon clattering loudly against the bowl as he drops it. His eyes fall closed, and Jared would spend the last hour of his life counting those eyelashes, following the spidery, delicate purple veining on his eyelids with the tip of his tongue.

“Please,” Jensen whispers, leaning into Jared’s cupped palm before he pulls away again, looking up at him with a tearful glare. “Eat.”

His seat is too far away from Jensen, and the food tastes like ash in his mouth as he forces it down. No one speaks above a whisper the whole meal, and Jared comforts himself with watching Gen spoon mouthfuls of tomato soup into Danneel’s mouth, her pretty face pulled tight with concern.

Jeff is nowhere to be seen.

 

The dishes are dried and nearly all put away when Jeff emerges from upstairs, smelling like Old Spice and pipe tobacco, his face drawn, serious. Jared spares a quick glance around the kitchen, making sure none of the younger girls are acting up, are doing anything that could make them catch Jeff’s attention or his wrath.

He stops in front of Jensen who is wiping off the table with the damp towel Jared had used to dry dishes, and it’s only because it’s so quiet in the room that he hears what Jeff says to him.

“It’s time.”

Jared’s heart leaps into his throat at just those two words, and he freezes where he’s sliding a stack of bowls into the cabinet, a terror sliding through him like icy cold water. He turns to find Jensen, Adrianne, Gen, and Danneel heading for the stairs, up to their rooms, and the front door clatters behind Jeff, leaving Jared alone with all the younger girls.

He takes off at a run after Jensen, taking the stairs two at a time and coming to a stop in front of their dark, shared bedroom, only barely lit by the moon outside the window.

“What’s happening?” he demands, trying to sound angry but he knows he just sounds scared. Jensen is pulling on a denim jacket a size too small for him, one that had belonged to Jared when he first got here all those months ago, not looking up at Jared, not even acknowledging that he’d heard him.

 _”Jensen,_ ” he finally sobs, grabbing Jensen by the arm when he tries to push past Jared with a heavy duffel slung on his shoulder, his head down, not meeting Jared’s eyes. The other girls emerge from their shared room, none of them stopping as they past Jared and Jensen and head for the stairs, the front door slamming shut after them. 

Jensen pushes against Jared, trying half-heartedly to get past him but only managing to push in closer to him, practically snuggled into his chest.

“Jen, tell me,” he whispers, grabbing a handful of borrowed denim and pulling Jensen even closer. “Tell me so I can help.”

“The deal with Mark fell through,” Jensen says after several beats of silence, the words so soft, a secret that’s not his to give away. “Jeff’s angry. He’s… he’s angry with us. That we didn’t fix it. He’s angry with me.”

“This isn’t your _fault_ ,” Jared nearly shouts, the words dropping off soft at the end. He gives Jensen a gentle shake with his grip on the jacket, heartbroken with the way Jensen doesn’t resist, doesn’t try to fight back. “You tried. _We_ tried. We let him… l-let him--”

“I’ve gotta go,” Jensen interrupts, angling just right so he can squeeze past Jared and out into the hallway, slipping from his desperate grasp. “Stay here. Watch the girls.”

He watches Jensen hurry down the stairs, watches his hair bounce and glint, the way his hand trembles where it hovers over the railing the whole way down. He turns to look around their room again, the nearly closet-sized thing with a twin mattress on the floor and a soggy box of their shared clothes and the full-length mirror Jensen likes to stand in front of in the mornings and stare at his skin-and-bones, naked beauty.

He grits his teeth, letting the surge of love that rushes through him give him the courage to snatch up Jensen’s flannel and his own backpack from just inside the door and hurry down the stairs, after Jensen.

He slips off the side of the porch, darting into the falling darkness along the side of the house and away from the idling station wagon in the drive, lit from within with Adrianne behind the wheel and Jeff and Jensen standing outside of it, talking.

He pulls the flannel on as he hurries down the long drive, comforted by the smell of Jensen on it, by the way it falls over his hands, covering them. He sees the headlights from the car by the time he gets to the bottom, and he steps out in front of it and squints into the blinding high-beams as Adrianne slows to a stop.

Jared runs to the car and pulls the back door open, ignoring the way they’re all gaping at him and sliding in beside Jensen, pulling the door closed behind him again, the inside of the car going dark once more.

“Jared, no,” Jensen says, trying to reach past him for the door handle. “No. You can’t. Not this time.”

“You aren’t going without me,” Jared argues, turning so that his body is blocking the door from Jensen, trying to make himself big, to sound as sure as he feels. “Whatever it is, I can help.”

“Jeff didn’t ask you to go,” Jensen says with no small amount of condescension, and the rest of the car stays silent, waiting for this to finish, to play out. Jared lets it sting him like it’s intended to do, some of his surety flattening out into rejection as he sags against the door. He nearly turns to reach for the handle, to let himself out again, when Danneel speaks up.

“Oh, let him come,” she says, her voice light and sweet as a song. “He’s tall. He might be able to help.”

“Help with what?” Jared can’t help but ask, looking up at her in the passenger seat, at her matted braids drooped over her shoulders, at her bruised, hopeful face. He realizes then that all of them are dressed in dark clothes, all but him in his red and gray flannel.

“We’re paying Mark a visit,” is all Jensen says, his voice biting, cruel in a way Jared’s never heard, and the hatred there is delicious, consuming. Jared savors it, breathes it in deep, letting it bolster his own loathing for the man who had fucked Jensen so hard he’d made him bleed on the sheets, who had so carelessly taken his own virginity, who probably fucks little boys younger than him in countries all over the world.

Jared smirks, settling back in his seat, his heart settling down in the clenched trap of his chest. Jensen doesn’t say yes, doesn’t give any kind of verbal permission, but at the sound of his sigh, Adrianne puts the clunky old station wagon back into drive and eases out of the drive and onto the road.

Alice in Chains sludges out from the radio, “Down in a Hole” filling the car with pain and heavy guitar. Jensen is silent beside him, looking straight ahead and as beautiful as a cameo in profile, backlit by the full moon rising in the clear sky. 

Danneel starts to chatter when Green Day comes on, lifting up onto her knees to turn in the seat and address the whole car, talking about hurricanes and wildfires, about waking up to the smell of smoke or a flood of water from the coast, somehow.

“We could go to the desert,” she’s saying, talking out of her head, a fever dream, maybe. “Gen, would you come with me? Live with me in the desert? We could build a house. Live in a tee-pee. I bet Adri could--”

“Would you crack a window?” Jensen interrupts, shifting restlessly beside Jared, their shoulders bumping.

“I’m cold,” Danneel whines, soft as a kitten, her rambling thoughts cut off for the moment.

“I’m about to melt,” Jensen shoots back, and his glare must be fierce because Danneel rolls down her window a crack, letting in a slice of freezing air that stirs up the stale musk inside the car. Jared watches from the corner of his eyes as Jensen settles back down again, resting his head against the back of the seat and sighing as his eyes slip closed.

Jensen hand comes to rest between them on the seat, his nails ragged and brittle and dull, a result of his poor diet. Jared lowers his own hand so, so slow, so careful, letting the very tips of his fingers slide along the back of Jensen’s hand, over his raw knuckles, his beautiful, long fingers.

Jensen stirs beside him, head lifting up again as he jerks his hand out from under Jared’s.

“Adri, stop the car,” Jensen says suddenly.

Adrianne’s eyes lift to find them in the rearview, and she slows down but doesn’t stop.

“Pull over,” Jensen orders.

“Jen, what--” Jared starts, trying to turn in the seat as Adrianne finally listens, pulling over onto the shoulder of the highway, not far from Jared’s high school.

Jensen pushes past him this time, getting a hand on the handle and pulling on it so that the door opens and Jared nearly falls out.

“Get out,” Jensen orders, shoving at Jared until he’s forced to stumble out of the car, finding his footing among the discarded beer cans and cigarettes lining the side of the road. The inside of the station wagon is lit up again, but only Danneel and Jensen are looking up at Jared, Danneel with a detached sort of curiosity and Jensen with a scowling, fierce anger.

“Jensen, please,” Jared begs, holding onto the door in an effort to keep it open, a helpless laugh falling from his lips as he tries to lighten this up, to sweet-talk his way back into the car, beside Jensen again. “I promise I--”

“Go home,” Jensen says, throwing Jared’s backpack out so that it rolls to a stop at his feet. He pulls the door closed, shrouding them all in darkness again, hiding Jensen’s face from Jared once and for all. Jared reaches for his backpack just as Adrianne pulls back out onto the empty road again, away from him.

He watches in mute shock until he can’t see them anymore, until the single working tail-light fades from view and he’s alone, truly alone. He shrugs the backpack up onto his shoulders and lets his gaze circle the quiet highway, catching on the glittering city of Austin beyond.

He doesn’t know what he did wrong, if he’d said or slacked somehow and earned Jensen’s scorn, earned standing on the side of a highway as the dark settles in tight around him, alone.

Jared doesn’t let himself cry, but the tears find their way down his face anyway.

His house is only a short twenty minute walk through the school grounds and into his neighborhood, and his mom isn’t home when he gets there. He digs the key out of the bottom of his backpack and unlocks the door, stopping just inside and listening to the cozy silence of the place that isn’t his home anymore, not really.

It would be so easy, so simple to just stay right here, to drop his backpack beside the door and go take a shower, stuff his belly with all the food he wants and curl up in a bed that isn’t moldy and sleep for ten hours. He could go back to school and make up with Stephen and get his life back, if he really wanted to.

But he hated that life, hated who he was. Hated every single second of his existence up to the one where he first laid eyes on Jensen Ackles.

And he can’t just abandon him now. Can’t leave him alone, no matter how much Jensen tries to push him away.

He tucks some clean t-shirts into his bag and finds another of his mom’s stashes of cash, pulling out a fistful of twenties and folding them up in his copy of _Lord of the Flies_. He stops in the foyer and takes a last look around, knowing somewhere in his heart of hearts that this is the last time he’ll see this place.

He loads _Ten_ into his Discman and skips to song number five. He hits repeat on “Black” and hunkers down in Jensen’s soft flannel as the wind whips around him, making the long walk back to the farm a frozen one.

 

It’s utterly silent when he finally makes it up the drive and to the house, a single light on in the living room. Jared stands at the foot of the porch steps for a long time, his heart racing, ears trained for any stray sound, but he hears nothing.

He tucks the Discman back into his bag, pulls his shirt tight around himself, and makes his way to the door, and then inside.

Jeff is there, alone.

He’s pacing back and forth just like he’d done at Mark’s yesterday (yesterday? How was that only yesterday?), and he comes to a stop when Jared steps into the house and pulls the door closed behind him.

Jeff stills him with his eyes alone, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides.

“Where have you been?” he growls.

“I-I went home--to… I went to my mom’s house. To get some more clothes,” he says, forcing his voice not to shake, forcing himself to meet Jeff’s eyes and not look away. “I wanted to see if she had some more cash.”

Jeff’s jaw ticks, the thumb of his right hand twitching.

“Did she?” he asks.

Jared shakes his head, not even blinking, his hands curled up in the over-long sleeves of the flannel even though all he wants to do is grip his backpack tight and turn around and leave.

“I can go to the barn,” Jared says softly, reaching behind him for the doorknob. “I’m just gonna--”

“You aren’t going anywhere.” Jeff’s long legs bring him right up in front of Jared in just a few big strides, and Jared knows instantly that Jeff is a kind of furious Jared’s never seen before, he’s dangerous and Jared’s here with him alone--

“Where are the girls?” he asks, his stomach dropping heavy and hard as the realization hits him. “Where’s Charlene? Where’s Josie and Johnnie? Where are they?”

“Sent ‘em back home,” Jeff says with a shrug, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting one in just three movements. He takes a quick drag and exhales up at the ceiling, like he’s listening for the sound of little girl feet that simply isn’t there, not anymore. “Too many mouths to feed. They were in the way.”

“In the way of _what_?” Jared asks, turning to stare out the window, at the hulking shadow of the barn, hoping beyond all hope that the girls are just out there again tonight, that they aren’t really gone, back to their drunk, handsy stepfathers and whore mamas. It’s not possible.

Jared flinches when Jeff corners him against the door, his hand twisted up in Jared’s shirt and yanking him up, shoving him into the room so hard that Jared stumbles and falls flat on his ass.

“Sit down and shut the _fuck_ up. If I hear another goddamn word from you tonight, you’ll be next.”

Jared skids back on the floor until he’s in the corner near the fireplace, pressed into cobwebs and dead roaches and mouse shit, but he’s as far from Jeff as he can get right now. He keeps his backpack on, ready to run, and his eyes stay down and on his trembling, twisting hands even as he watches Jeff through his lashes, tracking him like a nervous cat.

The rotary phone on the end table next to Jared screeches to life, ringing into the deafening silence so loud that Jared very nearly pisses himself.

“Get it,” Jeff tells him where he’s stopped in front of the window, watching outside for something, waiting.

Jared scrambles to his knees and snatches up the receiver before it can ring again.

“H-Hello?”

There’s a beat of silence and then a single breath, and that one barely-there sound lets Jared know exactly who it is.

“Jen?” he breathes.

“Let me talk to Jeff,” Jensen says, his voice flat and unemotional. Jared can picture him, that dull look he gets in his eyes when he turns into Jeff’s boy instead of just Jensen, when he barely looks alive at all.

“Jen, the girls are gone. The girls aren’t here. None of them. I don’t know what he’s--”

“Give me the phone!” Jeff barks, snapping his thick fingers and marching over to Jared. He snatches the phone away and glares at Jared so hard that he shrinks back, hunkering against the wall again and keeping his head decidedly down.

Jeff paces as much as the phone cord will let him, staying quiet while Jensen’s voice murmurs on the other line.

“No!” he says, interrupting Jensen and making Jared jump. “No, you won’t. You’re gonna stay there, and you’re gonna finish your goddamn job. Do you hear me, boy?”

Another beat.

“Say ‘yessir,’” Jeff whispers. 

Jared’s stomach turns, and he closes his eyes, trying to picture Jensen, anything about him: his bright eyes, his pink mouth, the bumped bridge of his nose, his slim waist, the dark honey of his hair. The comfort, the familiarity washes over him, and it pulls him back from the edge of a full-blown panic attack, gives him the courage to open his eyes, to look up at Jeff who’s still talking low into the phone, sweet-talking now that he has Jensen under his spell again.

“You want to make me proud, don’t you? Want to make sure we’re okay? Of course you do. I know you do, Jensen. I know. That’s my good boy. You stay there until the job is done, and you don’t step foot in this house until it is, do you understand me?”

The clatter of the receiver into the cradle makes the phone chime noisily before it settles again. Jeff sinks onto the couch where he still has a full view of the driveway outside, and he doesn’t move, doesn’t look away, like he’s already forgotten about Jared entirely.

Jared pulls his legs up to his chest and wraps his arms around them, curling down to rest his forehead against his knees, hidden behind the long curtain of his hair and comforted by the flimsy, false safety of not-seeing.

 

The sound of an engine over an hour later makes him jerk to life, a nauseating flush crawling over his whole body as headlights paint light across the wall. Jeff is up and pacing again, and he’s by the door before the engine of the station wagon even goes dead.

Jensen walks in the door first, looking pale and tired, black hood pulled up over his head and shadowing his face. The girls file in after him, Adrianne acting as a barrier between Jeff and Gen and Danneel. No one looks over at Jared for a second.

“Well?” Jeff asks.

Jensen tugs the hood back but keeps his eyes down, a silent admission of defeat that has every hair on Jared’s body standing on end, has him scrambling to his feet as quietly as possible.

“Can the girls go to bed? They’re tired,” Jensen replies after a moment.

Jeff looks past Jensen at them, and Jared aches at the way Danneel stays mostly hidden, tucked in the safety behind Adrianne’s tall body. 

“Get upstairs,” he orders quietly, pointing at the staircase with a glare at each girl as they shuffle past. “Genevieve.”

Gen stops, her hand gripped tightly in Danneel’s own, the link not breaking until it has to, until their arms and hands and fingers can stretch no further and they have to let go. Adrianne guides Danneel up the stairs while Danneel whispers Gen’s name in a shaky, pleading voice, the swollen wood creaking under their slight weight.

Gen doesn’t look up, doesn’t flinch when Jeff approaches her, pushing the thick dark fall of her hair off her shoulder so he can run a hand up her neck, squeezing the side of it in a show of pure dominance.

“Get on up to my room,” he says to her, no room for argument, for hesitation. “You’re mine tonight. Not hers. Is that understood?”

Jared grits his teeth the same second Gen does, but she nods, staying still under his watchful gaze for a second longer and then turning to head for the stairs herself. Jared stays as still as stone by the fireplace, terrified that he’s going to take Jensen tonight, too, that Jared is going to have to sleep alone in their little bed and listen to their sounds in the quiet house. 

The silence after the girls are gone stretches and shivers with Jeff’s anger, with Jensen’s hesitancy. 

“Look at me, boy,” Jeff grits out.

Jensen looks up, slow and steady, not stopping until he meets Jeff’s eyes, his face soft with submission even still, even as his eyes flash with the quietest of defiance.

“Mark never came home,” Jensen says, keeping his voice low, a hush. “We waited and waited. We messed up everything. Keyed his Ferrari, broke his big screen TV, cut up his waterbed, emptied his garbage cans into the pool, broke windows. But he never came home. The girls… the girls wanted to leave. Didn’t know why we were still there, what we were waiting for. And you didn’t want me to tell them--”

“Shut up,” Jeff cuts in, taking a step closer to Jensen, backing him up against the door. Jared tenses, hand hovering over the pocket holding his knife, ready to move. “I told you. I told you not to come home unless the job was done. I was very clear about what you were supposed to do, was I not?”

“Yessir,” Jensen says, his shoulders curling in, already flinching.

“You disappoint me.” Jeff takes a sudden step back from Jensen, one side of his face lifted in a sneer. “I’ve always known you were weak. That you didn’t truly love me. At last, I finally have proof.”

“Jeff, no,” Jensen breathes, following him as Jeff gets further away, his hands up to plead with him, trembling. “It’s not that. I swear it’s not--”

“Get out of my sight, Jensen,” Jeff says, turning away from Jensen and walking back to the couch, to his nearly empty bottle of whiskey. “I can’t stand to look at you anymore.”

Jensen’s eyes follow Jeff all the way back to the couch, and the heartbreak on Jensen’s face something Jared can’t stand, can’t bare to witness. Jensen runs up the stairs like a little kid, and Jared sucks in a deep breath as he gathers up his courage, marching right past Jeff and following Jensen to the second level, not looking back even though he can feel Jeff’s eyes on him.

There’s a waiting quiet in the dark upstairs of the house, and Jared tries to be as silent as possible as he tiptoes to the room he shares with Jensen. The door is closed, and it creaks when he opens it, slow, slow, slow.

Jensen is curled up on his side in the bed, facing the wall, the peeling paint over faded wallpaper over century-old newspaper, the light from the moon shining over his back, lighting up the empty space next to Jensen where Jared belongs.

He shrugs off his backpack and strips down to his t-shirt and socks, kneeling down to crawl onto their sagging mattress on the floor, seeking Jensen’s warmth.

He smells like sweat and Adrianne’s stolen cigarettes when Jared tucks in close enough to breathe him in, his chest nestling into the warm curve of Jensen’s back. Their single pillow is a stolen relic from a hotel, older than both of them combined, probably, and it offers no comfort when Jared rests his head against it, nose nestled into Jensen’s long, soft hair.

“He hates me,” Jensen whispers, a rejected lover, the words trembling as he tries not to cry. Jared sighs, the sound loud in their tiny, quiet room, and he forces himself to be brave enough to slide an arm around Jensen’s slim body, tucking them in tighter together.

“He doesn’t hate you,” Jared breathes, spreading his hand out on Jensen’s stomach, over too many layers of clothes. “He could never hate you.”

“It didn’t used to be like this. He wasn’t like this, not in the beginning.” It’s more than Jensen has ever said about the time before Jared came along, and the sudden knowledge, the promise of even a tiny sliver of Jensen’s history, has Jared holding his breath.

“He saw me dancing at a concert,” Jensen continues, his voice so soft, sweet with memory. “I don’t remember what show it was now, who was playing. It was a festival in town. I was there with some friends, trying to impress a straight boy who let me blow him sometimes after his girlfriend went home. I was stoned out of my mind and dancing the weekend before the 4th of July, and he saw me. Said he watched me the whole time. For hours and hours. All day. Just me. I had Jeff Morgan’s eyes on just me for a whole day, and I didn’t even know it.”

Jared wants to tell him about the first time he saw Jensen, his own introduction to love story, but it pales in comparison to this. He’s nothing next to Jeff and he knows it, so he stays quiet, keeps listening.

“He’s not bi. Not really. He says that he believes love and lust transcend physical bodies and that he doesn’t see gender, but Jeff likes girls. I was his first boy. I was the first one he ever touched, the first one he ever... “ Jared can feel Jensen warming there against him, flushing all over. He closes his eyes and wills his arm not to tighten around Jensen’s body.

“He said I was too beautiful not to have. Not to keep. And so he introduced himself to me. Talked to me. He… he kept me.

“There were so many girls here then. Dozens and dozens of girls. Beautiful girls. Some of them loved each other, but all of them loved Jeff. And then there was me. It was so amazing then. Just… full of happiness and sharing and healing and light. I felt supported for the first time in my whole life. Like somebody was actually looking at _me_ and wanted to know how I felt, what I cared about, who I was. It was… magical. It was real.”

Jared realizes then that he’s petting Jensen, rubbing in gentle circles over his empty stomach, his arm tucked underneath Jensen’s head to act as a pillow while his hand goes numb. The wind rustles the trees outside the thin glass in the naked window while a coyote howls in a nearby field, closer than they usually come to the farm.

He wants to marry Jensen, wants to flay his own skin, to split his ribs and give somewhere for Jensen to tuck in, to hide, somewhere Jared can keep him safe.

“I can never please him now. I’m not who he wanted me to be. I don’t know how to be what he needs. I can’t make him happy anymore,” Jensen says into the quiet of the room, the words trembling with heartbreak.

He wants to ask why it matters, why Jeff deserves Jensen’s time and love. What it would take for Jared to be worthy of it. But he swallows it all down and presses his mouth to the back of Jensen’s ear, his eyes falling closed as he pushes every bit of emotion he possesses into his words.

“We can leave,” he whispers, fingers curling in, clutching at the front of Jensen’s shirt, soaking up his warmth. “I… I have money. I went to my mom’s tonight. I got some more. We can get on a bus. We can go anywhere. We can go to California and live on the beach. We can do anything you want.”

Jensen doesn’t say a word, just breathes slow and steady, in and out, in and out, like he’s falling asleep. Jared waits with his heart in his throat, his eyes squeezed shut tight where he lays, face half-buried in the heavy fall of Jensen’s hair.

Jensen turns suddenly, shifts until he’s lying on his back and Jared is propped up along his side, staring down at his bright, tearful eyes in the near-dark, aching for the bruised one that's nearly swollen shut. 

“Why do you care about me?” Jensen asks, the words so soft they barely exist. “Why are you here? Why are you putting up with this?”

The words fly from Jared’s heart to the tip of his tongue, shivering and desperate to be born, to live in Jensen’s ears, to be made real, but Jared swallows them back down, fighting against his own tears as he searches Jensen’s eyes.

“I would do anything for you,” he breathes, thumb skirting over the curve of Jensen’s eyebrow and down his temple to his cheekbone. “I knew it from the first time I saw you. I was yours, even then.”

“I don’t deserve it.” Jensen hiccups, a soft, sucked-in sob that has silvery tracks of tears spilling down his cheeks and the side of his face, and Jared can’t stand it, can’t stand the pain emanating from him, the loneliness. His hand drifts back up and into Jensen’s hair, tugging it gently back from his face and using his grip to tip Jensen’s head up so that he can lean down and press the softest kiss to his warm, pink mouth, careful of his split lip.

Jensen whimpers, a sound so beautiful and broken that Jared surges down on him, half-covering Jensen’s body with his own and sliding his tongue, fumbled and awkward, into Jensen’s mouth. He tastes like nothing, no food or drink, nobody else’s mouth, nothing but Jensen, that same beautiful taste he’d been dreaming about since last night. 

Jensen’s thighs fall open with an ease Jared has only dreamt of, and between them, they make quick work of their clothes, interrupting kisses with cotton until they’re naked and shivering against each other, their hips straining forward, cocks teenage-hard and needy where they slide together between their starved bellies.

“Do me,” Jensen whispers, his hands running up and down Jared’s back while Jared feeds from his breathless mouth. “You can fuck me. If you want.”

Jared closes his eyes then, his cock shuddering out slick on Jensen’s flushed belly at the words, at having his dreams so exposed here in the thick dark. His fingers gentle in Jensen’s hair, fingers sifting through it instead of gripping now, petting him as he rocks his hips against Jensen’s on their roadside-find mattress.

“Only if you want it, too,” Jared tells him, their lips soaked and swollen as they rub together, tongues touching like they’re obsessed with each other. “Just… just tell me what you want.”

“Want you inside me.” Breathed right against his ear, hot and begging as Jensen’s long legs spread even wider, knees pressing along Jared’s ribs. He can feel the heat from Jensen’s asshole, from the tight center of him, and the reminder of that place, of the taste and warmth and smell of it, makes him shiver all over.

He doesn’t have any lube, doesn’t have a condom, doesn’t have anything he’s supposed to have to do this right. He groans when he feels Jensen reaching down between their bodies and gripping his cock in his perfect hand, squeezing it right up underneath the head and smearing around the precome oozing from his slit.

No one has ever touched him here but Jensen, and he vows in that moment to keep it that way.

Jensen rubs the blood-throbbed tip of his cock against his dry, beautiful hole, and Jared swallows down the broken sob that wants to escape, just tucks his face into Jensen’s neck and licks out desperate kisses there, forcing his hips to stay still.

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he mumbles, both his arms sliding around Jensen’s shoulders, cradling him up against him as he digs his knees into the mattress, lining them up even better.

“You love me too much to hurt me.”

It’s the last thing Jensen says before he tips his hips up and feeds Jared’s cock into himself, breaking through the first tight clench of muscle and suddenly he’s enveloped in a burning hot, velvet clutch that feels like it’s swallowing him whole. He strangles out a cry as he shoves forward on instinct alone, helping Jensen fit more inside of him, pushing in and in and in until he bottoms out, nowhere else to go, as deep as he can possibly get.

He’s changed now, forever.

He can’t move, can’t possibly think about leaving here, even for a second. He can’t fathom how anyone could be inside of this boy and survive it, could fuck him casually or with no reverence for his perfection, for how he keeps heaven inside of him, for the true religion to be found in the most beautiful boy who ever lived.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Jensen is saying, soft and shushing, his mouth traveling all over Jared’s face in breathy, feathered kisses. Jared realizes only then that he’s crying, his cheeks damp with tears, his body rocking but only forward, only deeper and deeper and never out, never away, never not here, here, here. 

“I do,” he finally says, leaning in to lick at a tear that’s landed on Jensen’s face, on a constellation of freckles on his cheek. “I do love you. I… I do. God, Jensen, I do, I do--”

“Show me,” Jensen murmurs against his cheek, his legs hitching up higher against Jared’s sides, knees against his armpits, spreading him open in the most delicious acquiescence. “Show me how much.”

It’s only the drive to prove his love that gives Jared the desire to move, to pull out and shove back in with a desperation so intense he can barely breathe, can’t do anything graceful or skilled or lovely, can only hump like a starved dog at Jensen’s open, warm body, can only feed at his mouth like it’s giving him what he needs to survive.

He swallows down all of Jensen’s sounds, all the little gut-punch cries and whines that leave him every time Jared digs back in, the movement getting easier the more he fucks Jensen open, the more slick he leaks into his snug pink asshole. It’s loud, the sounds of their fucking, it’s sweaty and inelegant and hurried, nasty where their skin sticks together, where it slaps in hollow spanks as Jared’s thrusts get faster, needier, his cock swelling up even bigger inside of Jensen, making Jensen flush-faced and silent, his eyes wide as he stares up at Jared.

“Let me come first,” Jensen begs on an intake of warm air, his cock hot and pulsing between their stomachs. “Please let me come. Please, Jared, please--”

Jared growls and digs his knees into the mattress hard, dropping his body down prone and snapping his hips harder to fuck him as good as he can, trying to ignore the thrum in his own body, the nearly overwhelming need to come because Jensen needs to come first. Jensen needs.

Jared pushes a hand between their bodies and wraps it right up under the hot head of Jensen’s small, fat cock, and he starts to jack him as hard as Jensen’s heart is racing, as needy as the delicious pulses of his guts around Jared’s dick. 

The first flex of Jensen’s cock in his grip gives him all the permission he needs to come, too, and he drives so hard and so rough into Jensen’s body that they scoot up the bed and into the corner against the wall, Jensen contorted and curled up nearly in half as Jared ruts into him rough as an animal, losing it inside of him where Jensen is throbbing and convulsing with his orgasm, pulling the come right out of Jared and soaking it up greedily.

He milks Jensen’s dick until Jensen whines, trying to pull out of Jared’s grip with a breathless laugh. Jared keeps his grip on him but loosens it a little, holding onto Jensen just like he’s being held inside of him, cradled in the most beautiful place imaginable, kept safe.

They slide back down on the mattress, Jensen so sweetly sprawled and lazy-boned, his mouth fat from kisses and so easily penetrated with Jared’s flicking tongue. Jared shivers when Jensen’s hands slide down his sweaty back and grip his ass, keeping him locked in tight.

“Was that your first time?” Jensen mumbles in between kisses, massaging at Jared’s ass and pulsing like a heartbeat inside where Jared wants to stay, to live forever. Jared nods, blushing under the flush of sex, his head tipping up to press an apologetic kiss to Jensen’s eyebrow.

Jensen smiles, the spread of it tucked against Jared’s jaw.

“That means you’re mine forever,” he whispers.

He wraps his arms around Jared and hugs him down against him, nuzzling at Jared’s face until he lifts up, lets their mouths find each other again. He stares down at Jensen in the dark, locking up the openness there, tucking it deep under his ribs to keep safe.

 _But are you mine?_ his bones beg as they melt against each other, falling asleep sucking on each other’s tongues for the second night in a row.

 

\---

 

It’s the frozen blue before dawn, when everything is so still and quiet that a single intake of breath seems to echo. And it’s in this silence that Jared stirs awake, his eyes blinking open and staring past Jensen’s naked shoulder to the window when he hears the faint hum of an engine, the crunch of gravel under tires.

Jensen is warm and so soft against him, burrowed under their single quilt with Jared wrapped all around him, tucked up protectively against his back. Jared holds his breath and listens.

The engine stops, and there’s a breath of quiet before a car door opens and a boot hits the gravel.

“Jeff!” Mark screams, ripping through the morning and stirring every single person in the house. Jensen wakes with a sharp inhale, his body tensing in Jared’s arms.

“Shh,” Jared breathes on instinct, his eyes wide, heart hammering loud in his chest.

“Jeff, get the fuck out here!” The pounding on the door downstairs makes them both jump, and Jared squeezes his eyes shut at the sudden violation of their sanctuary, of the little world they’d created in this tiny room, on this tired mattress. Jensen’s heart is racing against his palm, his chest rising and falling with startling speed.

“He’s gonna kill me,” Jensen whispers.

There’s a crack of wood and suddenly the front door is open, and the heavy thump of boots on old wood, all through the kitchen and up the stairs, getting closer and closer.

“Jeff Morgan, you piece of fucking _shit!_ Come out here and fucking face me, you goddamn coward!”

Another door opens and Jeff’s voice joins Mark’s, Jeff’s infinitely quieter.

“Would you stop screaming in my fucking house? Who the hell do you think you are--”

“You sent those sluts of yours into my house. They _destroyed_ my property! I have the video right here! I’m gonna take it to the police and have you and your fucking psychos thrown in jail.”

Jeff laughs, loud and booming, the floor creaking as the two men move. Jared sits up then, untangling himself from Jensen and climbing up from the bed.

“What are you doing?” Jensen hisses, grabbing at Jared’s wrist and trying to pull him back to bed. 

“I have to go see what’s going on.” Jared grabs his jeans and pulls them on, his hands shaking as he zips, buttons. “Gen’s in there. We can’t just leave her alone with those two. We can’t.”

“Goddamnit, Jared,” Jensen growls, staying where he is for a few more seconds before he’s throwing the blanket back and climbing up from the bed, pale and naked and beautiful enough to bring Jared to his knees, if all this wasn’t going on around them. He pulls on his boxers and the flannel of his own that Jared had been wearing, and Jared doesn’t wait for him to say anything else, to try and change his mind.

Their voices are louder when Jared opens the door and steps out into the hall, trying to avoid all the creakiest floorboards on the way to Jeff’s room.

“I know the shit you get up to. I know all about the little boys you have over to your house. All the kids of the starfucker moms who come to your concerts. I have shit on you that would destroy you and you fucking know it,” Jeff is saying, a little taller than Mark and using every bit of it to his advantage as he looms over him, naked as he is. Jared peers past him to Gen curled up against the headboard, looking as tiny as she possibly can with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Adrianne pushes past Jared and Jensen without warning, wearing just a t-shirt and panties and looking stronger than both of them combined. She marches right into the room and past Mark and Jeff, headed straight for the bed where Gen reaches out for her like a little girl.

“Like you’re any better, with your fucking _cult_ of virgin pussy you keep around here? Don’t you look down your nose at me, you fucking prick.” Mark shoves Jeff, pushing him so hard he stumbles back a few steps, almost knocking into Adrianne who is pulling Gen out of bed, practically carrying her to the door. 

“You sure didn’t mind it when I had all those boys over for you, did you? You sure didn’t fucking mind it when I gave you my best piece of ass the other night and you _still_ decided to fuck me over.” Jeff’s eyes are flashing in that way they did last night with Jensen, like they did when he slapped Danneel, and he takes step after step back closer to the bed, to the nightstand, Mark following him the whole way.

“You wanna know why the record execs stood you up the other day? Why I’ve been avoiding you?” Mark steps in close to Jeff, almost backing him against the wall. “Because they heard your music, and they thought it was shit. You aren’t a fucking musician, Jeff. Nobody would pay a fucking dime to listen to you. I couldn’t convince them, not even when I was begging them. _Me_. A fucking Grammy nominated artist--”

“If I have to hear about the one time you _didn’t_ win a Grammy again, so help me God--”

“What, Jeff? You’ll _what_!?”

“I sent them over to kill you last night, Mark. I sent them over to slit your fucking throat like the pig you are.” There’s a smirk on Jeff’s face, like he’s got an ace up his sleeve, and when the words process, Jared can’t breathe.

He turns to look at Jensen over his shoulder, at the boy who is all but curled in on himself, his chin trembling as he pulls fitfully at his sleeves. Gen, Adrianne, and Danneel are staring at him, too, their matching horror telling Jared that they had no idea that’s what last night was about either.

Mark laughs, an ugly, snarling sound as he takes a step back and spreads his arms wide, his voice making the walls shake.

“Why don’t you do it yourself, you fuckin’ pussy. For once in your goddamn life, get your _own_ hands dirty.”

Jared’s eyes zero in on Jeff’s hunting rifle leaning up against the nightstand, right beside him, the realization happening in slow motion. Jeff’s hand closes around it and lifts the gun in a single motion and aims it right at Mark.

Jared blinks and it feels like an eternity, the sharp intake of his breath seeming as loud as when Jeff pulls the trigger, as Danneel’s scream from behind him. Mark’s head explodes like a horror film, pieces of brain and bone and skin flying all over the room, landing in wet, sloppy splatters. The rest of Mark’s body hits the floor with a loud thump, the gape of his neck pouring blood onto the floorboards that seeps into cracks between.

Danneel’s sobs bring Jared back into himself, make him suck in a breath and look away from the ruin of Mark’s body and up at Jeff. Jeff, who is staring past Jared and Jensen at Danneel, his eyes still wild, gun still in his hand.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarls. “Shut the _fuck up._ ”

He charges through the room, past Mark’s body and past Jared, but Jensen steps out in front of him, keeping him from Danneel with a shaking hand on Jeff’s naked chest.

“Jeff,” he says softly, the word trembling so hard it barely makes it out. “Jeff, hey. Calm down. Just… calm down. Give me the gun, okay? Give me the--”

“You,” Jeff whispers. tearing his eyes off of Danneel and staring down at Jensen. Jared’s stomach lurches, bile burning in the back of his throat as he reaches for the butterfly knife in his back pocket.

Jeff grabs Jensen by the hair and yanks him up off his feet and into the room again, slamming him back against a wall that is messy with gore, pressing Jensen’s cheek right into a dripping glob of meat and brain.

“If you hadn’t fucked up, this wouldn’t have happened. I wouldn’t have had to do this, would I? Look what you made me do.” Jeff’s voice is sweet, rueful, the rifle sliding up Jensen’s chest and coming to rest with the barrel shoved right up under his chin. 

“I’m sorry,” Jensen breathes, tears spilling down his cheeks but he stares right into Jeff’s eyes, still pleading with him. “Jeff, I’m sorry. Please, just. J-Just calm down. Let’s just--”

“I’m sorry, too,” Jeff says, shoving the gun up so hard that Jensen’s head snaps back, his throat bared. Jared bolts into the room then, the knife open and clutched in his right hand, gripped so tight his knuckles are white.

He runs into Jeff with all of his slight weight but it’s enough, enough to startle him, to give Jensen the room to run. Jared grabs onto the barrel of the gun and pulls on it at the same time he brings the knife up clumsily, driving it into Jeff’s naked belly with a raw-throated shout.

Jeff turns to look at him, stunned, his eyes wide and bloodshot, his breath putrid with sleep and liquor and cigarettes. Jared lets go of the knife and it falls out of Jeff’s stomach with a clatter. He grabs the gun with both hands and yanks on it, trying and failing to pull it from Jeff’s grip even as blood starts to gush from his inked, hairy belly.

“You little f…” Jeff mumbles, reaching down with his left hand to touch it, blood coating his fingers immediately. He snatches the gun back from Jared with one last show of strength, and Jared doesn’t even have time to react before Adrianne is there, nearly as tall as Jeff herself and with infinitely more at stake.

She grabs his right arm and pulls on it, trying to get the gun away from where Jeff is now pointing it at Jared. Gen closes in on his left and pulls him back, and together they overpower him, toppling him to the ground and pinning him there with their combined weight.

Danneel steps in, calmer than Jared has ever seen her, her belly protruding in her small t-shirt as she slides down to her knees, straddling Jeff. She grabs the gun with both hands and pries it out of his grip at last, all the power now as Gen and Adrianne hold him prone against the floor.

She’s smiling as she lays the gun flat across Jeff’s throat and presses down with all her weight, so serene even as Jeff’s face darkens with blood, his eyes bulging as he glares up at her.

“Y-You… fucking bitch,” he manages, his mouth turning purple, tongue lolling in his mouth.

“Yeah,” she replies, the delicate tips of her fingers touching the ground where her hands are holding the rifle across his neck. “But I’m not _your_ bitch anymore.”

He struggles under her, trying to buck her off, fighting against Gen and Adrianne’s hold on him until he suddenly just stops. His eyes stay open shock-wide, his mouth pulled back in a horrifying grimace and still trained on Danneel, but he falls back lifeless against the floor, not fighting, not breathing.

Adrianne and Gen help Danneel up, and all of them back up from Jeff, but none of them look away. Jensen is shaking against Jared’s side, all but hiding behind him and holding on with a finger through one of his belt loops.

It’s quiet in the house once again, the sun just now rising outside, bringing light into the room, warming it up under all their bare feet.

“Go get your stuff,” Jensen says after a long moment, his voice soft, but it’s startling all the same. “We’ve gotta go. _Now_.”

The girls rush past them and out the door, headed for their shared room. Jensen hasn’t moved, hasn’t taken his eyes off of Jeff, and Jared turns to look at him, studying the pale horror on his face, the tears that haven’t dried on his cheeks.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Jared whispers. “I had to. I had to do _something_. He was gonna hurt you. He was gonna--”

Jensen’s hand slips into his own as he turns his head and kisses Jared, stopping the overflow of words and steadying him all at once.

“Go pull the car around,” Jensen says against his mouth.

It’s dark and freezing cold downstairs, and the gravel hurts his bare feet as he makes his way to the station wagon, not even glancing at Mark’s Mustang. It takes a few tries to get the car started, and he turns off the radio and blasts the heat before climbing out again.

He stops halfway back to the porch, feet numb on the cold earth. He can hear a murder of crows nearby, talking to each other in a tree beyond the barn, can hear the leaves rustle as a cold wind sweeps through, making Jared shiver, curling in over himself, rubbing at his bare arms. The sun is just barely starting to lift over the horizon, over the tops of the trees. It’s barely morning, and the world has already changed.

And even though he hates himself for it, he knows he’s going to miss this place.

 

\---

 

**December 1995**

It’s been snowing for two days now. It’s a grey morning, one for staying indoors, in bed, in warm arms. The snow is soft and light this morning, and it feels like icicles on the brave souls who wander out in it.

Water drips in a bucket in the kitchen, right next to the broom, next to muddy boots. A cat is curled up and dreaming in a laundry basket of folded up towels while frozen dresses hang heavy and forgotten on a clothesline out in the front yard.

Somewhere upstairs, a baby starts to cry.

Jared turns where he’s stood in front of the coffeemaker, waiting for it to dispense what he needs to exist this morning. Gen comes downstairs with Lyla cradled on her hip, looking just as tired as Jared feels.

“Mornin’,” she says, opening the fridge to dig for a bottle. He grunts a reply and sprawls out on the counter to rest his cheek on his arm and dramatically wait for the coffee to finish. She bustles around him and puts a pot of water on the stove to boil, singing quietly to Lyla and bouncing her to get her to stay quiet while they wait for her breakfast. Jared pours a cup of coffee when it’s finally done, and he doesn’t even care that it burns his tongue when he takes the first sip.

He sighs happily, closing his eyes as he swallows.

“You’re pathetic,” Gen remarks with a smile in her voice.

“Where are your wives?” Jared asks, hopping up on the counter and leaning back against the cabinets as he starts to wake up.

“Adri’s outside working on the damn truck. Something about the starter or… something.” She holds out a cup of her own, and Jared wordlessly fills it with coffee. “Danni’s sleeping in this morning. Her shift doesn’t start until noon.”

Jared smiles, holding the cup in both hands so it warms them as he watches her dance with Lyla and make her laugh between sips from her own cup.

“Is it working out okay, all of you sharing that bed?”

Gen turns to look at him with a raised eyebrow, a grin spreading across her face that she can’t seem to school away.

“Oh, yeah. We manage just fine.”

The front door opens, and just the particulars of the movements let Jared know exactly who it is. He hops down from the counter and shuffles to the front door, getting there just in time to see Jensen duck inside and close the door with a backwards push of his elbow.

He’s breathless and pink-cheeked, smelling of cold and snow and hay and holding a small basket of eggs and a pail of milk. Jared takes them from him and passes him the coffee in return, grinning when he meets Jensen’s eyes and sees his face tipped up for a kiss that Jared gives him gladly.

“Don’t burn the toast,” Jensen teases him, sliding a cold hand up under Jared’s shirt to get at warm skin. Jared bites at Jensen’s bottom lip, soothing it with a lick before he lets him go. 

“Hey, I’m not the one who burns toast,” Jared says, pulling out a skillet for the eggs while Jensen digs out a glass bottle to put the milk in. “Do you remember that one time when Jeff--”

He stops, the skillet falling to the eye of the stove with a clatter when he realizes what he said. It’s quiet behind him, both Gen and Jensen falling still as the memory of Jeff falls over all of them, the memory of their home, what used to be.

Jared still has nightmares, still imagines Jeff coming back to life to find them, still thinks about all the lost girls and wonders where they are, if they’ll ever see them again. It’s unlikely, living on the outskirts of a hamlet in the Catskills nearly two-thousand miles from the farm, where they had been a family what seems now like a lifetime ago.

But they’ll always haunt him. Every single one of them.

“Hey,” Jensen whispers, suddenly so close, so warm where he presses up to Jared’s back and hugs him from behind. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

If Jared closes his eyes and thinks real hard, he can still smell it that morning, the scent of burning wood, can still see the smoke pushing against the upstairs windows, trying to get out. Jensen had started the fire, had burned it all to the ground. Had saved them.

The place in his nightmares doesn’t even exist anymore.

Jared smiles, reaching up with one hand to squeeze both of Jensen’s linked on his stomach, savoring the steady beat of his heart against his back, his cold cheek against his neck, the calm he brings about in Jared.

He turns to look at him over his shoulder, letting his warm nose drag over Jensen’s frozen one. It’s small, but it’s enough.

Jensen lets go and takes Lyla from Gen so she can tend to the bottle, and Jared takes a full, deep breath as he reaches for the eggs to start breakfast for the Family.


End file.
